Not that she would have expected anything less from Endric. Given everything she’d seen from him, she believed he had anticipated everything they might need, including the quality of their mounts.
Roelle wasn't the only one walking today. Selton walked alongside her. They still hadn't taken the time to talk about the attack, but Selton had been working with the Magi. Now, he led one of the groups, a true raegan in more than title, leading the daecka as Endric had instructed. It was a group that could be managed more easily, though many of the Magi still didn't quite understand why that mattered.
To be honest, Roelle wasn't certain yet either. All she knew was that, if it came to an attack, she wanted her Magi to be ready. She didn't want to fear them being unprepared for whatever they might face.
To the west, the ocean crashed against the rocks. They were probably only a few miles from the ocean itself, and the occasional breeze carried the sound of the waves, or the calling of gulls nearby. The air smelled of salt, a briny odor that had grown more prevalent the farther they had followed this path steadily north.
A day back, they had come across a branching road that Hester claimed led to Rondalin, a large city isolated in the center of the north, its own nation amidst a sea of unclaimed land. One of the delegates had been called from Rondalin, but what influence would someone like that have? The man from Chrysia had been the son of a councilman, but being from Thealon, there was an advantage. The nation was at the heart of the Urmahne faith. That presented them with a unique position, gifted with the Tower of the Gods, presumed to have the favor of the gods, something no other nation could claim.
“You look like you’re deep in thought,” Selton said.
She took a breath and sighed. “I’m just thinking about the last time I was outside of the city.”
“The attack?”
She nodded.
“That delegate who traveled with you was lucky you were there to protect him.”
She hadn’t really thought about it at the time. But it was the delegates on her mind now. “I know they were summoned to work together to help restore peace, to begin restoring the Magi influence, but what can they really do to stop the spread of the Deshmahne?”
Selton glanced over. “I don't know. I’m not sure how much influence they’ll have.”
That had been her concern as well. Especially because several of the delegates came from the southern lands, lands that have been claimed by the Deshmahne. Now that she had heard Lendra's take on what happened in the south, and the way the Deshmahne had pushed out the Urmahne priests, she wondered how much influence any delegate of the Magi would have. Did the Council overestimate their ability to influence?
She watched Selton as he turned back to staring straight ahead. It was time for the strangeness between them to end. “You've been quiet since we left the city.” She waited for him to turn toward her and readied what she hoped was a friendly gaze. Selton didn't need her accusation. And she needed her friend.
Selton swallowed, his jaw clenching, then looked over at her. “It was one thing when we were planning a scouting mission,” he began, seeming to choose his words carefully. “When Endric requested that we learn of the Antrilii. That… that was something I thought would be exciting. Leaving the city, exploring…” He shrugged. “You had that opportunity when you went south with Haerlin, but most of us did not.”
“You heard what Endric and Novan said. You understood—”
“They were concerned about the Deshmahne, and we’ve left the city, getting away from the Deshmahne. I didn’t think… Even with the stories out of the north, I didn’t think they would send us anywhere dangerous.”
He had been caught up in the excitement of leaving the city, the same as the others. Had he thought they only played at being soldiers? “We could go back.”
Selton shook his head. “I don't think we can. Not anymore.” A pained expression came over his face. “I didn’t know what to expect, but when we saw how those people were treated…” He shook his head again. “No. Even if the general sends Denraen to push back the Deshmahne from the north, we need to know what else is taking place here.”
Silence fell between them. She felt the same way about that village. It had been devastating to see what had happened there. Those people corralled into a small building, and the Deshmahne… She didn't know what the Deshmahne intended for them, but she feared what they had in mind. Especially after hearing from Lendra, and hearing the way the Deshmahne had treated the priests in the south. Would they have been slaughtered or simply forced to convert? Why did both give her a queasy sensation in the pit of her stomach?
“Once we find the Antrilii, we’ll learn what Endric wanted us to know, and then we’ll return.”
Selton nodded. “I've been giving it thought. Why send us? Why not simply tell us what we’ll see? What’s Endric hiding? I know these are questions you’ve been asking, but they trouble me the farther we travel. There has to be a reason he wanted us to come all this way, and it can’t only be for a story, can it?”
Hester was riding close enough that I saw his posture change. His back stiffened slightly, but he gave no other sign that he listened.
“I don’t know. Something he thought we needed to see—or hear— ourselves.” The other possibility troubled her, but it was one she wouldn’t put past Endric. Had he wanted the Magi to help deal with the Deshmahne?
“Then it's not the Deshmahne. You’ve already seen that firsthand.”
“I don't think so.”
“But you don’t know,” he pressed.
They hadn’t seen anything to make her think the rumors out of the north were about anything other than the Deshmahne. And maybe that was bad enough. If they had reached this far north, how much more extensive was their reach?
The two fell silent again. Selton occasionally reached over to pat his horse, a thin stallion named Hank that Endric said he had once ridden. Roelle was sure that had given Selton a little bolster of pride. She hadn't thought of it at the time, but now she wondered if that hadn’t been his intent. Everything Endric did seemed calculated.
It was these calculations that troubled her. What other calculations had he made? What plans did he have that involved sending them north?
They topped a rise, and in the distance, she saw the low wall of another village with buildings tucked behind it.
Roelle motioned to Selton, who motioned to Matthew and Jhun, and the four of them advanced toward the village, signaling the other magi to hold their positions. Hester rode up, joining them, with Lendra alongside. The six of them made an unlikely group, and Roelle wondered what the villagers might think if they knew four Magi, a historian, and a Denraen soldier all approached.
“Should we be ready?” Matthew asked.
Hester grunted. “You should always be ready. That's one thing the general has taught me. You should always expect a battle, even when you think it unlikely.
Matthew started to unsheathe his sword, but Roelle caught his arm.
“Not yet. If this is only villagers, they don't need to see Magi coming in with swords. Can you imagine what they would think?”
“Only the same thing the other village thought,” Lendra said.
Hester laughed again. “The other village was happy to have you come through. Had you not, they would've been left to whatever the Deshmahne intended of them.”
They reached an opening in the wall leading into the village. Crossing through, Roelle felt a slight chill. Closer to the coast, the air wasn't quite as cool as it had been farther to the south where they had been more inland, but the air still had a cool bite, and a hint of the salt hung on the wind. It was gustier than it had been in the south, and it flapped their cloaks. Still, a strange heaviness hung in the air as they reached the village.
Roelle tipped her head to the side, listening, but she heard nothing.
Hester unsheathed his sword. When Selton shot him a look, he shrugged. “They might not expect the Magi to come arm
ed, but who wouldn’t expect a Denraen to come with his sword unsheathed?”
Matthew laughed. The laughter died off, pressed down by the heaviness in the air.
No one else said much. They all made their way around the village. Much like the other village, they saw no sign of any others. Roelle tensed, readying for another attack, but it never came.
Nothing seemed out of place. Roelle saw no signs of violence. The homes were closed with doors secured. When they got close enough to look inside some of the windows, most of the homes had dishes put away. Everything appeared well cared for, but still abandoned.
“What happened here?” Jhun asked. She tucked her dark hair behind her ears, her hand on the hilt of her sword, leaving it sheathed for now, but the tension in her body was visible beneath her cloak.
Roelle could tell that she was ready to unsheathe at any moment, ready to attack, prepared for anything. But there was nothing, only the emptiness and the heaviness in the air.
Roelle glanced at Lendra, whose nose was crinkled as if smelling something sour. “What is it?” she asked.
Lendra shook her head. “Probably nothing. Smells like something is rotting here.”
After making a complete search of the village and still not finding anyone or any sign of the Deshmahne, they gathered back at the wall. Roelle turned to Lendra. “What do you think? Could this be the Deshmahne? Is this the sort of thing they would've done?”
Lendra looked back toward the village, letting her attention drift before turning her gaze back to Roelle. “I'm not sure. In the south, they came to larger cities and their presence was well-known. The smaller villages where they attacked were different. The only ones who would know were the villagers, and the Deshmahne rarely left any villagers behind who could tell of the devastation. Those they did let live converted.”
Was that what had happened here? Could the villagers have converted? It seemed impossible to believe, but what other answer was there? And if they had, where had they gone? Were they new Deshmahne who now wandered the rest of the north, converting others?
Remaining in the village unsettled her. This couldn’t be what Endric wanted her to see, could it? “We should go,” she said.
The others nodded agreement.
As they rode off, Hester motioned for her to move off to the side. “We need to get word to the general. If this is Deshmahne…”
“What do you fear?” Roelle asked.
“We’re too far north. Even that last village was too far north. And if this is Deshmahne, then it’s farther north than they should be. Denraen patrol these lands, Mage. There should be no way for them to move so openly here.” He cast his gaze back to the village. “We've had attacks in the south near Gomald, but here? We’re almost to the lower hills, and from there, we reach the mountains. Then we’re in the true north. If the Deshmahne have reached there, they are far more advanced and aggressive than we ever realized.”
They neared the rest of the Magi. “I could send one of mine back.”
“Not one of yours. I'll send one of mine. We’ll still have enough to guide, and enough to hunt.”
“If you think we must.”
“I'll only do it if you approve. Otherwise, we’re with you, Mage.”
Roelle forced a smile she didn't feel. “You don't need my permission, Hester. Endric commands you, and he's the one who sent you with us.”
“That may be, but Endric put me under your command. Rightly so, I think.”
Roelle didn't know what else to say and only nodded. She didn't like the idea of losing one of their Denraen but also didn't like the idea of continuing north without warning those in the south.
Hester sighed. “We’ll have someone head out in the morning.”
What he said made sense, and she suspected they needed to do it, but she couldn't help feel they were missing something as well.
Chapter Ten
Allay slowly climbed the face of the smooth rock wall surrounding the second terrace. Most of it was difficult to climb because there was nothing to grab onto. Maybe those who built it had never intended that anyone climb from terrace to terrace. Which, the more he thought of it, the more likely that was the case.
Despite that, there still seemed to be sections of the wall that were easier to climb because vines crept up the wall providing natural handholds. He squeezed onto the vines, holding them tightly as he made his way up. At one point, he slipped, his hand missing the next place to grab, and he started slipping down the face of the smooth wall.
Allay cursed under his breath, but cut it off. This close to the gods, would his swearing anger them? Then again, this was just what he needed: Dying while trying to sneak in for a view of someplace he was not meant to be.
As he reached higher, his hand got snarled in a section of vine. It twisted around his hand and he again lost his footing, swinging away from the wall before slamming into it again, finally coming to a stop. Allay allowed himself to take a few slow breaths.
Gods! If he had fallen all the way from here, he would have… He didn’t know what would have happened. As he glanced down, noting the ground at the base of the wall far below, he shivered.
Allay repositioned himself and began climbing up the rock again. He moved more carefully, sliding his hands from grip to grip, working his way toward the top of the wall. Once there, he grabbed onto the lip, and pulled himself up stretched out atop the wall, his breathing labored and his heart hammering in his chest, sending something akin to a vibration through him.
After a while, he sat up. The sounds of practice, that of men hollering, swords clanging, wood cracking, drifted up to him. Now that he had reached the top of the wall, seeing the Denraen practicing was his reward. Allay had made the climb, curious about the Denraen, wanting to watch the soldiers as they trained. The few times he’d seen them, it was clear how they practiced with intensity and with a brutal sort of efficiency. Gom Aaldian soldiers were skilled, but these men, when he’d seen them in battle, were more than simply skilled.
Allay looked out into the yard. There was movement near him, almost directly below, and he looked down. He counted nearly one hundred Denraen soldiers, all marching together, splitting off into various formations before coming back together. At a single gesture, they parted, stepping aside, before merging back together.
Not far down the yard, he observed several pairs of soldiers engaged in mock combat, using their swords as they struck, back and forth, a deadly sort of dance.
“They are impressive, are they not?”
Allay spun, and nearly toppled off the wall.
His heart surged anew in his chest, and he swallowed back a lump that had formed in his throat. He glanced up and saw the strange, dark-skinned man from the El’arash. Stohn. He had been silent in their lessons for the most part. Stohn had watched the Magi, not with the same sort of amused level of suspicion, bordering on distrust, that he'd seen from Dougray or Danvayn, or Simion, the other delegate from the south, but more with the expression of a man who hadn't come to a decision.
“They are.” Allay didn't know what else to say.
Stohn settled onto the wall next to him. He wore maroon leather breaches that went to his midcalf. And a silky white shirt that hung open, revealing much of his chest. He crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging. Allay wondered whether Stohn was a soldier where he came from. Was that the reason for his interest, or was it similar to Allay’s?
“I have been coming here to observe the last few days. I do not think they mind.”
Allay blinked. “The last few days? How is it that you get up here?” Maybe Stohn had an easier way of climbing the rock wall than what Allay had chosen. If he did, it might make the view almost worthwhile. Almost.
Stohn pointed back toward the sheer rock leading up to the third terrace. “I climbed down.”
Allay studied the wall, trying to find a way to actually climb down. The drop from the third to the second was even higher than what he’d climbed, making it s
eem more difficult than scaling the wall. Not just difficult, but practically impossible. The wall was equally smooth, and probably stretched another fifty feet, a staggering height for someone to climb down. And then, it required him to balance on the narrow width of the wall. It meant he had to perfectly time his descent.
“Where did you climb down from?”
Stohn turned back and motioned toward the wall at the base of the rock. “There. There was a rope, so I don't think I was the first to do this.”
Interesting. Who would've left a rope descending from the third terrace down to the Denraen practice yard?
“What have you seen, if you've come here the last few days?”
“The Denraen prepare for an attack.”
Allay chuckled. “I think they prepare for an attack constantly. Whether one comes is a different matter.”
“This is something different. In my land, we have many soldiers. I have witnessed such movements in the past. When they come, it can mean only one thing.”
“What one thing?”
“War is coming.”
Allay almost started laughing, but saw that Stohn wore a serious expression. This was not a man accustomed to making a joke.
“The Magi wouldn't allow anything to get to that point. The primary purpose of the Denraen is to keep the peace,” he said
“Perhaps that is their intent. As I said, I have seen men preparing like these men do now. Perhaps the Denraen always prepare that way. Perhaps they are always ready for war.”
They sat quietly on the wall, neither of them saying anything, both simply observing as the Denraen moved in formation, making a few more quick movements before coming back together in the center of the yard. When they did, Allay noted a smaller man, one he recognized even from here. He had seen him during their travels. General Endric had been imposing even then. He was not particularly impressive up close, that is, until Allay had seen him practicing with his sword. Allay had the sense that Endric alone would be able to stop most battles.
The Warrior Mage (The Lost Prophecy Book 2) Page 9
